Stay Awake
by Sea Mars
Summary: Kurt is a bitchy, sassy, famous fashion magazine editor, who sleeps around. Blaine is trying to succeed as his assistant... Well that made it sound super lame, Sea. Anyway.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey._

_Basically this is Kurt. He has never met Blaine. _

_I know exactly where this one is going._

_Yes! Go Sea._

_**I do not own Glee.**_

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><p><strong>CHAPTER <strong>**ONE**

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><p>One of the things that Kurt loves most about Manhattan is the astounding view from his apartment.<p>

He revels in it, waking up each day to the sun dancing across the Hudson, weaving in between the rooftops of the smaller buildings and finally through his some-what excessively large bedroom window. His view unobstructed by buildings or even sheer curtains, as he makes a point of having them drawn to either side of the window before he falls asleep each night.

Kurt was never one to waste time, however even he could not deny himself just five minutes each morning, relaxing in between his charcoal satin sheets and white down-filled duvet and watching his city awaken.

Someone stirred slightly beside him, breaking him out of his reverie and bringing the heavy arm draped over his waist to his attention. The distraction—as his friend Lucas so eloquently labelled them—he had indulged in last night was buried somewhere deep under the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets, a sprout of blonde hair the only identifier for this sleeping body.

Kurt tried to wriggle out from under the blonde's muscular arm with little luck.

_Great._ He thought, _now __I'm __running __late_.

It was a daily occurrence that him and Lucas would meet for breakfast and coffee at Norma's before parting for their respective high-rise buildings for work. He was only ever late when his "distraction" didn't leave, which meant that Lucas always knew what his college friend had gotten up to the night before.

And when Lucas knew that only meant one thing: lectures.

"Umm… excuse me… can you – uh – you need to leave." Kurt staggered, prodding at the sleeping figure in attempts to wake him.

Lucas always made fun of Kurt for his inability to get his distractions out of the house. No matter how often this was required—because sometimes they snuck out, preferring to save face—Kurt never got better at getting them out.

The figure started to wake, making confused noises and trying to moisten his dried mouth. He rolled over and started to pull the covers down from his face and look at Kurt.

"Mornin' babe." The blonde mumbled to Kurt.

_Well __this __just __got __a __lot __harder, __thanks __for __that_. Kurt scolded himself for choosing someone as unfortunate looking as the blonde did.

"You have to leave now. Bye." Kurt said, a forced cheer evident in his voice.

"No – I thought – what? Leave?" The blonde's raspy voice repeated. It _was_ undeniably sexy and rough, but to fuck him again this morning was terribly self-destructive, even for Kurt. Besides, Lucas would guess. So Kurt just looked at the stranger expectantly, waiting for him to roll out of bed and out the door.

"Do you even know my name?" The blonde asked him, looking somewhat hurt, but getting the hint and started pulling on last night's clothes.

"Names aren't important. Once you name something you get attached." Kurt said, cringing that his motto for things like this came from a green ball in an animated film.

The blonde, thankfully, dressed quickly which allowed Kurt to inspect him more. Perhaps unfortunate looking was a _tad_ harsh. The guy was gorgeous when he was standing in his dark jeans and tight sweater, his blonde hair not pointing at awkward angles like most guys' when they've just woken up. His skin was pale and clear and his face was alight with an excitement that seemed to come deep within, almost as if he was reliving some amazing memories all the time.

"Its Jeff." He said with a nod, before pulling on his cloth loafers and letting himself out of Kurt's apartment.

Kurt got out of bed himself; hurrying to shower, fix his hair into a stylish quiff and change into a crisp white button down, slate grey suit pants and a matching vest. Fashion is Kurt's life, which is the main reason it took him a little over ten minutes to choose the black skinny tie over the maroon bowtie.

Throwing his brown leather satchel over his shoulder Kurt managed a quick glimpse of his reflection as he walked past the mirror by the door.

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><p>Another thing that Kurt loves about Manhattan is the constant shuffle of people.<p>

He practically feeds off the stress and drive of everyone in the large city. He loves that everyone has a purpose—whether it be the merging of two major companies, the nannies taking their children to Central Park, or the walk of shame that made Kurt think momentarily of Jeff—and that in itself was exciting enough.

People watching is Kurt and Lucas' favourite topic over their skinny coffees, each of the friends trying best to out do the other on the ridiculousness of the story.

"That girl there, Kurt. I bet she's an aspiring writer from some small country town that we've never heard of, but just can't get her leeway in New York because _everyone_ comes here to write. She's a cliché." Lucas remarked, easily knocking down Kurt's somewhat lame and cliché breakdown of the old lady sitting a few tables away from them.

"Perhaps I should hire her as my assistant. Did I tell you I had to fire _another_ one? Everyone in this city is completely incompetent. When I ask for hot Starbucks, what should I expect?"

"Well, you'd expect to get it lukewarm what with their less-then speedy travel time and—"

"Lucas. Shut up. I should just get you behind that desk, however out of place you'd look in that building. At least then when I asked for hot coffee that's what I'd be getting."

Lucas knew that Kurt was very particular about his coffee. He used to drive all the way out to the Lima Bean. Lucas didn't know _much_ about the Lima Bean except that the coffee there was apparently amazing, and it was all Kurt would talk about when he got too worked up.

"Kurt, honey, if you had _asked_ for your coffee I'm sure I would've died of shock… your hair doesn't look as careful this morning, by the way. I was positive that even the Great Kurt Hummel would favour his hair over his routine." Lucas started, his suspicions confirmed by the dark blush that crept across Kurt's face.

"What was his name?"

"Jeff. Pretty excellent fuck, even for Night's standards." Kurt replied, trying to stop his face from turning so dark as he referred to the underground nightclub that he frequented, often returning with his distractions.

"I'm sure he was. You've gotten around quite a bit these days though, Kurt. Don't want to get a name for yourself in a city this small."

It was ironic. Every fashionable person in America, at the _least_, would know how Kurt was. He was a fashion icon, both controlling the fashion world in what he says to wear and what he wears himself—which were sometimes two completely different things. The fashionistas blindly followed his trends. He had learnt the tricks into picking the pieces from each designer brand so that what he said goes. He had perfected the ability to completely ruin designer's season line by raising his eyebrow.

"Terribly so, I really should slow down… I've just been really stressed out recently." Kurt said with a sigh. One of the advertisements he printed in last months issue had cost a company around five million dollars, and they decided they wanted the company that published his magazine to pay for it.

"Brunde's still trying to get that settlement, are they? I bet Elias-Clarke."

"You should be eternally grateful you're an environmental lawyer… this thing will be over my heads until Fall Fashion Week. No matter if that page spread didn't earn them what the shoes were apparently worth, I bet they still made more of a profit then what they would've made without me."

"Speaking of work, we should probably get to that." Lucas said with a sigh.

The two men stood, flattening down their suits and collecting their briefcases. Kurt had a sneaking suspicion that all Lucas carried in his was an apple, and just chose to carry it around to fit in with the other lawyers that teemed that building.

"How's that super cool case going, Lukey?" Kurt asked with a sarcastic smile.

"Sometimes I just _wish_ that one company would accidently dig in the wrong spot or not pay for all their emissions just so I didn't sit around playing Solitaire all day. It's pathetic."

Exiting the café, they were greeted with a light wind that made them huddle into themselves as they said their goodbyes.

"Well, if you ever want to bring me a hot coffee, you know where I am." Kurt said, waving as he turned to walk—electing not to take the black town car that was parked on the road for him—towards the Elias-Clarke building.

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><p>Blaine stood amongst the chaos that had ensued as a reaction to a text. A text from Kurt Hummel's driver apparently, announcing the dragon-like editor's return.<p>

It was almost like a scene out of a movie. The First Assistant's Blackberry buzzed, revealing that Kurt Hummel was walking towards the office, and this apparently was not a good thing.

Blaine had tried to pick up parts of conversations as he watched girls hurriedly pushing their feet into heels, the placing of glass Voss water bottles on almost every desk, messy foods were thrown into bins and covered with paper and all the coats that had been slung over the workers' chairs and desks were hanging neatly in a closet. From what he could tell, no one despised Kurt, but they did despise the stress that his arrival put them through every morning.

The Second Assistant, a more friendly-looking brunette wearing the new season Chanel boots that Blaine coveted for his cousin pushed Blaine into a chair behind another desk—why Kurt needed three assistants Blaine had still not determined—and they waited patiently for their bosses arrival.

_At __least __I __don't __look __out __of __place __here._ Blaine thought, swinging around on his desk chair childishly. He had been a well-dressed child for as long as he could remember. There were photos of him all around his parent's house of six-year-old Blaine in a green button-down and jeans, or eighteen-year-old Blaine in the black Armani tux that he'd worn for his cousin's wedding. Blaine had just always told himself that it came with the money that his parents had, but there was no denying that his impeccable taste had perhaps heightened somewhat when his parents accepted he was gay and, _no_ that wasn't going to change.

Blaine's mother bought his Vogue from then on.

A movement from the Second Assistant caught Blaine's eye, and stopping him from swinging. Kurt had just strutted into the office, the glass French doors shutting behind him, cutting the four of them off from the hustle of the rest of the magazine. He walked into the larger connected office throwing his briefcase on his desk and flicking through the messages post-it noted on his large computer screen.

The First Assistant stood, carrying a tray of fruit into Kurt with a wide smile on her face. She looked genuinely happy to be there, and Blaine was impressed.

"Good morning, Kurt." She said, her smile never faltering.

Kurt noticed that his First Assistant—Annie—was always, almost unnaturally happy.

"People shouldn't be so happy so early in the morning, Annie." He replied, plucking a grape from the tray before gesturing for her to place it on his glass-topped desk and walking back into the smaller room with Annie close on his toe.

"I need you to call Chanel and tell them that their run through is being moved up to Friday morning… then call Finn and tell him, no for the last time no, I do not want Rachel to be hanging around in the clothing department if they come and visit… I also need you to confirm dinner reservations with—"

Kurt listed things at such a fast speed that Blaine was wondering how the First Assistant (was her name Anne? Anna?) managed to write all of it down legibly.

"—and I'm supposed to have someone recommended by Human Resources, where is she? And someone needs to make sure that the order for Voss has gone through so I don't have to drink Evian like last time. Who's that?"

Blaine stood, knowing that Kurt was addressing him even though he wasn't looking at him… or acknowledging him in anyway at all, actually.

"From Human Resources. Kurt, this is—"

"Blaine Anderson." He said with a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey :)_

_Before you read, yes I played around with some sexual preferences a bit._

_Also, I rewrote it because of the lack of straight males—which are still lacking—but now less so._

_I always feel awkward here, so the quality of these author note things will probably drop more._

_I'm also on leavers from this morning (no computer), so there won't be the update until I get back._

_It will be up either Tuesday if I can be bothered writing it on my iphone, otherwise Wednesday (Perth, WA time)._

_Oh, and I'd prefer it if you didn't come and murder me after this one?_

_If you want to/need to contact me, I have my tumblr on my phone (though I just cleared my tumblr completely)._

_It's seamars(dot)tumblr(dot)com, just incase one cares._

_Otherwise, enjoy :)_

_**I do not own Glee.**  
><em>

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO<strong>

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><p>"So I guess I'm the girl from Human Resources?" Blaine continued, his smile never faltering.<p>

"Funny." Kurt said bluntly, dripping with sarcasm.

Kurt turned and walked—or perhaps stalked—back into his office, leaving a shocked looking Blaine behind him. The First Assistant prodded him towards the room Kurt had just entered, a reassuring smile on her face. She shut the doors behind Blaine, leaving just Kurt and Blaine standing on either side of the desk.

The first thing that Blaine noticed about the office was that it was large. _Very_ large. A window covered one wall in its entirety, taking in a view of Central Park. Kurt's glass-topped desk was pushed off to one side of the room, with his chair facing away from the window, but towards a fan of glossy fashion magazines, a tray of coffee and a New Yorker. The other side of the room had a modern and comfortable-looking chaise lounge, and racks of clothes organised by designer and colour.

"They're for the run through on Friday." Kurt said, and Blaine realised he'd be staring curiously at the racks.

Blaine turned back to Kurt, to find him now sitting at his desk, drinking a coffee and flipping through The New Yorker. He stood there awkwardly for two whole minutes, waiting for Kurt to invite him to sit down.

"Well, at least you know how to not talk." Kurt remarked, still not looking up from his newspaper.

_Kurt Hummel is a dick._ Blaine thought to himself, trying to hide his smile. He glanced over his shoulder to see the two other assistants watching them through the glass.

"Alright," Kurt began, setting his newspaper aside, "Girl-sent-by-Human-Resources—"

"Most people call me Blaine." He interrupted, struggling to hide his smile.

"I'm not going to interview you, and ask you 'what's your future in the fashion industry?' and 'why do you belong in this company?' because I honestly don't care. If my Starbucks is on my desk, hot, by the time I'm back from my meeting then you can sit behind desk number three."

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><p>"You got a job because you got some pretentious dick his coffee?" David asked, slurring his words slightly.<p>

"It had to be hot as well!" Blaine said defensively. Yes, he really didn't do much to deserve this job, and yes he didn't really see a way that he could succeed as much as Kurt had, but he had always wanted to be in entertainment, and fashion was close enough.

"I'm proud of you Blainey. A reference from that place and you could get a job doing anything you wanted… like working at McDonald's." Trent said, laughter erupting again at the table they were sitting at.

Blaine was glad that he had stayed in touch with so many people from his high school. Most of the Dalton boys had left Ohio as fast as they could after graduation, quickly looking for the bigger, greater things that their parents expected of them. A large portion of the Warblers had moved to New York to seek jobs on Broadway, study at an Ivy, or waste away their trust fund on the nightlife.

It was almost a requirement that they meet up as often as they do, no matter that they had such a range of ages, as the rowdy private school graduates were hard to escape from in such a compact city, but they kept each other happy and insane.

"You should see the amount of couture he has sitting in his _office_. And when the workers heard that he had finished breakfast it was like a Warbler meeting without Wes and his gavel." Wes shot him an apprehensive look at that comparison, "Except they were all running around making themselves pretty or look like they were working." Blaine said.

The guys all laughed again, cautiously checking their watches to make sure they'd get enough sleep for the next day. They always caught up on weekdays, so they had to limit themselves most of the time, knowing the next day there was work or classes or something to do that was much easier _senza_ hangover.

"Jeff just got a job in that building as well, I think. Some big-time marketing company?" Wes informed them.

The bar was crowded with people, most perched on stools around tables or the bar itself. Rush was popular on every night of the week because of the prohibition décor.

"Do you guys ever wonder whether our parents are disappointed that we aren't some big-time lawyers or something?" David asked. David was still finishing up his masters in civic engineering or something at Cornell University, no one really understood what he even did or planned to do with whatever civics was.

Everyone looked at each other around the table in agreement. Generally, the Dalton boys left the school for Ivy colleges, only to end up as lawyers or politicians or company executives. It was the creative boys, namely the Warblers, who demolished the high statistics and successes of the other boys by becoming successful in the arts, or even becoming well-known celebrities.

"At least we have fun." Wes said, hitting his hand a few times on the table—_old habits die hard_, Blaine thought.

People around them started to trickle out as the night wore on, and the ex-Warblers started to join them, until just Trent and Blaine were left at the table.

"I _still_ can't believe that you just stopped singing. What happened to your dreams of being great?" Trent asked.

It was no secret that Trent was very fond of Blaine and Blaine's voice, though he claimed to be straight. There were suspicions amongst the Warblers that he had been the one to set Blaine up with Sebastian back in junior year as no one else could quite identify how the transfer had Blaine's identifier as "sex on a stick".

"My dreams changed into nightmares, I guess." Blaine stood and straightened his coat, getting ready to leave. Trent always stayed until they practically kicked him out, he claimed that he didn't like to walk home in peak pedestrian traffic, but as no one knew what that meant, and they had caught Trent making eyes at one of the waitresses, no one believed him. "And besides, who says I shan't be great?" Blaine asked with a smile and waving as he walked towards the door.

"Anyone can be great at fetching coffee, Blaine!" Trent called after Blaine, watching his friend push open the door of the bar and using his coat as a shield from the biting wind.

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><p>Kurt stumbled into his apartment, squinting through the darkness to make sure that when he threw his keys and iPhone onto the hall table they didn't fall to the floor.<p>

When he came home this late, all he wanted to do was curl up in bed without changing or turning on any lights. But, even in his unusually drunken haze, he knew that he would regret it in the morning if he didn't moisturize and hang up his winter coat, at least.

As he busied himself with the bottles of Christian Dior cleansers, toners and moisturises, Kurt couldn't pull his mind away from Blaine.

He was completely entranced by the shorter man with the styled black hair. Blaine knew how to dress, which pleased Kurt, and Blaine was a _guy_, which also pleased Kurt.

The fact that he was a guy that Kurt could not stop thinking about did _not_ please Kurt. When Blaine had walked into Kurt's office, he had busied himself with the newspaper, carefully and subtly inspecting Blaine without his assistants knowing. He looked so fragile, vulnerable and even a bit uncomfortable.

That was how Kurt liked the people around him to be… not that he was a tyrant, just that he didn't let people push him around like they did when he was in high school.

Kurt finished up with his moisturising routine, hung up his coat in the hall closet and put his loafers in their spot on the slanted shelves of his wardrobe, managing it all without turning the lights on.

He jumped into his bed in a set of cotton boxers and a shirt and stared out his large window. The city was started to sleep for the night, the lights on the buildings more scattered through the windows then they were a few hours ago. The moon was a tiny white sliver, like the whites of a fingernail, and reflected off the Hudson in a magical way.

"I could never get tired of this city." Kurt hummed to himself as he let sleep claim him.

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><p>Blaine didn't mind the long walk to his apartment. There would have been a time when he was too afraid to walk the streets alone past happy hour. Now, however, he relished it.<p>

It was a good time for him to think. Once he got home, Sebastian would be badgering him for half an hour at the least, asking him about his day, forcing food down his throat in attempts to sober him up and generally treating him like a child.

The walk _to_ this babysitting service, however, was peaceful. There were less people walking the streets, particularly on a cool night like tonight. But the cooler the night, the happier Blaine was.

He felt his iPhone vibrate against his right leg, and with a sigh at the blocked number, answered it.

"Hello?" He said brightly, trying his hardest to keep the annoyance from his voice.

"You're late." A snarky voice said on the end of the line, the tone tattooed deep in Blaine's mind.

"You're calling from a blocked number… You don't own me you know?"

"No, I don't own you. But you _clearly_ need to be looked after and _I_ somehow got the job, so you have to listen to me."

"Goodbye!" Blaine said quickly, moving his phone away from his ear and going to hang up. All he heard from the phone was the spluttering of his caller's voice, not used to Blaine defying him in such a way.

_Kurt's aurora is getting to me_. Blaine thought to himself, realising how much more confident he had been since Kurt had sent him on errands all day. The First Assistant, who had introduced herself as Annie, had taught him when it was best to drop Kurt's name into a conversation so that he could get what he needed easier, and when it was best to drop the name of the magazine instead. The Second Assistant had listed all the different temperatures and travel times from all of the coffee shops that Kurt may request coffee from, so that it was always sitting on his desk hot for when he returned from meetings.

What Blaine wasn't taught was how everyone in the building coveted Kurt.

He was pretty, yes. He had sarcastic blue eyes, and hair that was gelled into a lazy but stylish quiff. He was captivating as well, exuding confidence and ease. Blaine just didn't really understand why everyone fawned over Kurt. Then again, Blaine never understood why someone fawned over someone else, anyway.

Blaine started to drag his feet, really resenting the need to go home to Sebastian every night. He liked that Sebastian wanted to come to New York with _him _while he looked for the job, rather then his holiday to Paris to see his family again. Sebastian was sometimes, just a little intense.

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><p>Blaine let himself into the apartment, which now looked incredibly small compared to Kurt's <em>office<em>, leaving his keys and phone in his coat pocket and throwing it onto the hooks near the door.

Sebastian was standing in the hall just before it forked off into the bedroom on one side and the living area on the other.

"Tell me you didn't just walk home." Sebastian said, in the same snarky voice he'd used on the phone.

Blaine rolled his eyes and threw his hands into the pockets of his pants and started to walk towards the taller man before him.

"The only way I could spend longer away from you, Seb."

As Blaine approached, Sebastian grabbed the crook of his arm and pushed him against the wall, his lips placing opened mouth kisses all the way down Blaine's jaw, before ending up on Blaine's mouth.

Blaine deepened the kiss, pulling Sebastian's head closer, but the taller boy broke away, resting his forehead against Blaine's and rubbing their noses together.

"I'm sorry I worry so much." He murmured, his warm breath sending goose bumps up and down Blaine's spine.

Blaine wrapped his arms around Sebastian, pulling himself off the wall while keeping Sebastian close. He kissed Sebastian softly on the neck before biting down softly on his collarbone. Sebastian let out a whimper, pulling Blaine's lips back to meet his, but Blaine wouldn't let him, instead just blowing over the still-wet skin he'd just kissed, making Sebastian whimper again.

"I'm sorry I'm such tease." Blaine said, smiling, before stepping into the kitchen to fix himself a sandwich.

Blaine was sitting on top of the counter eating his first half of the peanut butter sandwich he'd just made when Sebastian came into the kitchen. Blaine had always felt sorry that Sebastian didn't really connect with the other boys in the Warblers, dropping out halfway through their junior year.

"You are _such_ a child, Blaine Anderson." Sebastian said his face breaking into a smirk.

Blaine realised he was probably right—this time—as he was sitting on top of the counter, swinging his legs, eating his peanut butter sandwich with a glass of milk. Blaine just poked his tongue out.

"A child that you love?" Blaine asked, mock concern on his face.

Sebastian smiled.

"A child that I love."

"You paedophile! Get away!" Blaine yelled, jumping off the counter and running out of the kitchen, his glass of milk almost sloshing out of the glass.

"Why would you run towards the bedroom if I was a paedophile?" Sebastian asked, grabbing the remainder of Blaine's sandwich and following him slowly.

Blaine had stopped, standing in the middle of the living room, a couch separating the two of them. Sebastian smirked at him.

"What are we, five?" He asked and Blaine just chucked.

They chased each other around the couch for a while, until Sebastian finally jumped over the back of the lounge and pulled Blaine down on top of him, the empty glass falling onto the plush rug.

Blaine held onto his boyfriend's sweater tightly. Sebastian rubbed soothing circles on Blaine's back until Blaine's eyes began to flitter.

"Bedtime?" Sebastian inquired, knowing Blaine had to get up for work.

Blaine just nodded in agreement, his eyes closing once more and staying closed. Sebastian marvelled had how childish Blaine actually was. He had the boyish good looks, matched with his cheeky smile, playful, bright eyes and what the Warblers labelled as his "Peter Pan Life Outlook" where he believed he'd never grow up.

"Carry me?" Blaine asked, the pleading in his voice turning Sebastian on… just a little bit.

Sebastian sighed, but pulled Blaine up with him and carried him as a groom would carry a bride over a threshold. Blaine buried his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck, never loosening his grasp on Sebastian's sweater.

Sebastian lowered Blaine onto his side of the bed, the room dimly lit by the streetlight just outside their window. Sebastian pulled the covers out from under Blaine before pulling them back on top and tucking him in tightly and pressing his lips onto Blaine's forehead.

"Do you want me to read you a story as well?" Sebastian inquired softly, but was met only with Blaine poking out his tongue again.

Sebastian chuckled, and Blaine's stomach fluttered as he realised just how lucky he was in New York.

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><p><em><strong>Please Note:<strong> If i said Thad at all in this, it was meant to be Trent. It was a last minute change with a fair amount of rewriting that I did about fifteen minutes ago. I tried to change them all over when I edited it, and double checked it as well but it's 2AM and I'm sure I missed one, so I'm just apologising incase! :)_


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